Long Ears and Feathers
by OneDarkandStormyNight
Summary: Daffy refused to admit they were friends...But as he wrapped the warm blanket around himself, courtesy of a certain rabbit, he thought that maybe Bugs Bunny wasn't so dethpicable after all...Set in '60s version. NOT SLASH, just pure friendship fluff.


_So here's the thing. I'm sixteen, but when I was little, I watched nothing but Boomerang cartoons, which means as far as kids' shows go, I'm an old lady who grew up in the '50s and '60s. Then, I got older, discovered Teen Vogue and Twilight, and the rest is history. Today, I'm out of school and I watched morning cartoons on Cartoon Network. I fell in love with Bugs Bunny all over again, and I have the distinct feeling that I'm going to be watching a lot him on YouTube in the next week or so.  
If you got bored with my heartpourings-out (hehe), just know this is a one-shot based on the '60s version of Bugs and Daffy, set sometime when Daffy still tried to get him killed on a regular basis. (Can you believe it was going to be a drabble? Further evidence I cannot write short.)  
Anyways, I hope you enjoy!  
Oh, and please, please, _please_ ignore totally lame title. It's 1:45 a.m., and I have a DMV test tomorrow for my permit. Have mercy._

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**Long Ears and Feathers**

Running, running, _running._

That's all they'd been doing. All day long. Running from this short, stuttering hunter here, that fuming, redheaded prospector there, and that _witch_—What's her name? Hazel? The one with the really, really annoying cackle.

As he balanced on the homemade ladder, Daffy risked one more cautious peek aboveground. He was greeted by the near-darkness of twilight just before the sun disappeared on the horizon, the tranquil silence of late autumn in the forest, and the faint smell of smoke and gunpowder still lingering in the air….Or was that himself he was smelling? After all the times he'd been nearly clobbered today by rifles and pistols and broomsticks, he wouldn't doubt it.

"Would you relax? They're not coming for us right at this moment, you know; they've all quit for the night. They won't be back 'til tomorrow. Fudd first, then Sam, and then, if there's time, Hazel will take a stab at it."

Daffy rolled his eyes in unconcealed exasperation at the flippancy with which that _despicable rabbit_ spoke.

"You may be perfectly happy having mad old witches taking stabs at _you_," he declared, as he climbed carefully back down the ladder into the warm burrow. "But I prefer to remain safe and warm in my silky-soft feathers rather than almost cooked in a tub of boiling soup."

Bugs rolled his eyes as he settled into his comfy armchair with his lean back legs crossed and his gloved paws behind his head.

"You gotta learn to lighten up, Daff," he told him.

"'_Lighten up,_'" came the irked grumble, among other things, as eyes the same inky shade of black as his thick feathers flashed darkly. "Well, you know what, buster? If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have been involved in any of those life-threatening situations today."

"If it hadn't been for me," said Bugs steadily, with a yawn, "you would've been shot by Yosemite Sam first thing this morning, so yeah, I guess you're right about that, at least."

"Therefore," Daffy went on as though the gray bunny hadn't even spoken, "I only see it as fair that you make amends by letting me stay here tonight."

"Yeah…sure, Daffy…"

The duck turned from where he'd been moving the ladder away from the entrance to the aboveground, _just in case_, somewhat startled by the ease with which the rabbit had given in. He was further taken aback by the sight which met his eyes, for in the soft, fluffy chair, Bugs had curled up on his side with his legs up in the seat, head resting on his wide palm and oval eyes shut peacefully in slumber. His extremely long, gray ears were just settling limply around his head, drooping to rest on his narrow, furry shoulders as a low, relaxed croon escaped through his pearl-white teeth.

Daffy scratched his head. He'd never seen Bugs sleep before; all his usual encounters with the sickeningly suave rabbit were during the day, by the lake or in the forest, where the imperturbable hare was brash and alert and more than willing to see Daffy attacked by multiple hunters with big weapons in retaliation for Daffy's wild attempts to see _him_ in the same plight.

Now, it didn't look like Bugs was too worried about Daffy's trying to get him killed. In fact, he didn't look worried at all, snuggled against the soft cushion of his favorite chair, in an awkward position that would probably put a crick in his neck by morning but not even caring as he drifted off to dreamland or wherever it was he went.

_Probably to some dreamy desert somewhere filled with multiple hunters and cowboys and witches out to kill him, where he can show off his ridiculous disguises and his stupid brilliance and his despicability,_ thought Daffy, though his thoughts lacked their usual sting, almost immediately turning into, _Gosh, he is kinda cute when he sleeps. Looks like a stuffed animal. Not one of those stiff, dead-eyed ones scary people put on display over their fireplaces, but one of those soft, limp ones you see in toy store windows, the ones kids take home and won't go anywhere without; all he needs is a little ribbon to tie in a bow around his neck. He's sort of adorable._

Daffy Duck decided then and there he definitely had been running _way_ to much today.

He glanced to the pristinely-made bed on the far wall, and considered how Bugs didn't look as though he'd be waking up anytime soon, so therefore, the soft-looking mattress would probably be available for the night.

Then he shivered, realizing it was even chillier belowground than it was above, and wondered if the blankets on aforementioned bed were as thin as they looked. As he contemplated this, a slight movement caught his eye, and he looked around just in time to see Bugs shifting in his sleep to what appeared to be an even more uncomfortable position. What he noticed more, however, was the big, empty place on the burgundy chair beside the rabbit's thin frame. It certainly looked warmer there than the bed, and the friendly light from the lamp was so much closer to the chair, flooding the cozy-looking cushions in a gentle glow, while the bed was tucked away in a frigid-looking corner, and looking more and more unappealing by the second.

He stood in indecision for a few minutes longer, then, finally, with a solid, _Ah, what the heck,_ he climbed up into the large armchair, settling with his back to Bugs and resting his forehead on the pillowy headrest.

He was just starting to doze when a little noise behind him broke the silence, and then his eyes snapped open as he felt Bugs' face move to sink into the dip between his shoulder blades. There was a contented sigh which he could feel disturbing the feathers of his back (which had somehow remained unruffled and smooth despite the day's grueling activities). When his mild efforts to push Bugs off of him resulted in one, long ear's twitching and resting against his arm, he was ready to give up and throw him off, when Bugs suddenly shivered bodily.

Daffy groaned quietly in his throat. _Why, oh why did he have to go and do that…?_

When he heard teeth beginning to chatter quietly somewhere close to his ear, he rolled his eyes, huffed, and scooted backwards ever-so-slightly. Almost immediately, he felt two long arms press gratefully into his feathers, and refrained from jumping when icy-cold fingers folded against his spine.

Another contented sigh, and Daffy blamed the drowsiness for the warmth which filled him for a brief moment and the fact that, from somewhere deep in his mind, a single-syllable word jumped out of the blue.

_Friend._

He chose, wisely, not to deliberate it, but merely relaxed into the comfy chair and let sleep overtake him, as the gentle breathing of the long-eared rabbit filled the silence of the friendly room.

In the morning, Daffy returned to the lake and Bugs showed up at around noon, delivered a few witty one-liners, and proceeded to chew his carrot nonchalantly as Daffy was pummeled by bullets before he accidentally rolled into a grouchy bear's den…_or had Bugs planned it all along?_

Nothing was much different, except that, when Daffy stumbled back to find Bugs had fled the scene of the crime—_as always_—he found, in the spot where the arrogant little wise guy had been standing, a simple, brown box. Inside, a small blanket was folded neatly with a note attached.

_Consider it payback._

_Bugs_

Daffy dropped the note and swung the blanket over his shoulders, thinking of how warm it would be in the oncoming months of fall and winter.

Maybe Bugs Bunny wasn't so despicable after all.

From where he observed from behind a nearby tree, Bugs smirked triumphantly to himself and took another bite of his carrot. As he watched Daffy gather up the note and the box carefully and make his way back to his own home, one, pestering little word leapt to his mind.

_Friend._

He waited until Daffy had vanished altogether from his sight before returning to his burrow.

It was a ridiculous idea, but somehow, in some wild way, it made sense.

Maybe it was one of those love/hate things.

He shrugged, smirked again, and turned off the light.

**The End**

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_First Looney Tunes fic ever. How'd I do, troops? In-character? No? I need opinions!_


End file.
